Rape by Joyce Carol Oates Read Free Book Online

The first time, a dozen waxy-red roses. The second time, a tinfoil-wrapped pot of white mums. His moist eyes stared and stared at the swollen-faced bruised-eyed woman in the hospital bed. He loved Teena Maguire but you could see that he was terrified of what was hidden beneath the white gauze that tightly covered her head. He was terrified of what injuries, the worst of them internal, had been done to her in that part of her body hidden by bedclothes. The last he’d seen of Teena Maguire they’d all been drinking and happy celebrating the Fourth of July. The last he’d seen of Teena Maguire she’d been another woman. Leaning to kiss his cheek saying Love ya, Casey! Call me in the morning .
    There had been no next morning. For Casey and Teena there would never be another next morning.
    The room is filling up with flowers and cards. Even when Casey ceases to visit, he will send a floral bouquet from the gift shop downstairs. A card signed Love, Casey .
    A few of the nurses at St. Mary’s know your mother from high school when she was Teena Kevecki. They drop by the room to see her, trained not to show surprise, shock, embarrassment,or indignation at the sight of any patient. Trained to call out, “Teena, hello! How are they treating you here?”
    When relatives enter the room, it isn’t the same. Their eyes fix on your mother’s battered face and swathed head. They search for words that elude them. The women take Grandma aside to ask cautiously if Teena will have permanent facial scars. They ask about the mysterious “internal” injuries.
    You don’t hear Grandma’s replies. You try not to hear.
    Can’t sleep except when Momma sleeps. Can’t eat except when Momma eats. Can’t smile except if Momma smiles with her swollen, lacerated mouth.
    You are reverting to childish behavior, you want only to crawl into bed beside your mother and be held by her. Though Momma is not strong enough to hold you or comfort you or even kiss you unless you poke your fevered face close to hers, against her wounded mouth.
    Your arm! Yanked out of its socket with a crack! you imagined you had heard. Now it has been forced back into its socket yet still you are in pain much of the time, your arm feels useless to you like a dead girl’s arm. Your eyes are reddened from crying. Your back, sides, thighs are covered in bruises from where the one named Haaber kicked you. Where’s the little cunt where the fuck is she hiding? But in Momma’s hospital room you are safe, and you can sleep. Patches of sleep drift by like clouds. You smile seeing Momma’s dreams fleeting and shining like vapor. Momma wait! Take me with you . Lower your head to rest it on yourcrossed arms, on the bed. Next thing you know Grandma has come into the room waking you. A nurse is bringing Momma’s dinner on a tray, her soft-diet food.
    Momma lets you help her with her meals. Though by now she can feed herself. Apple juice, bouillon, puréed carrots like baby food. And strawberry Jell-O. So delicious, you and Momma plan you will make Jell-O all the time when she comes home.
    Outside your mother’s room you overhear one nurse asking another That poor girl, the daughter. They didn’t rape her, too, did they?
    â€œBethie? Something happened to us, I guess? But you’re all right, honey? Are you?”
    Momma is so anxious, you tell her yesyes!
    She sleeps so much. In the midst of watching TV her head droops, she’s asleep. You want to snuggle beside her. You want the vigil never to end.
    One day in reproach pinching your arm as if she’s only just thought of this: “Bethie, you didn’t fall off that porch, did you? Is that what this is all about? Some fireworks went off, you lost your balance and fell off that damn old porch?”
    *   *   *
    Momma is out of the room wheeled away and taken downstairs to another floor for a CAT scan. You’d had a CAT scan,